New Day, New Threat
by Agent Real Time
Summary: Jack heads out on a routine call that turns out to be a trap set by an old enemy. However this is actually a minor part of a much larger terrorist plot. [Real time, Post Day 2]
1. 6:00pm to 7:00pm

6:00pm to 7:00pm

_6:00pm - Los Angeles, California, USA._

A van drove across a busy freeway. The driver looked in his rear-view mirror nervously at the men sitting in the back. There were three men back there; two of them obviously only henchmen, and the third was sitting with a laptop in front of him.

"It's ready to transmit, Karsen," one of the henchmen said, as he connected some wires up to the back of the laptop.

Karsen, the man at the laptop, picked up a headset and put it on. He tapped some keys and heard a dial tone. He dialled a number and there was a ringing over the line.

Acting CTU Director Gary Jennings's phone started to ring.

"CTU, Jennings," he answered. For a moment there was only silence over the phone. "Hello?" Jennings said uncertainly. He initiated a trace of the call on his workstation.

"I'd like to report a crime," the voice said slowly.

"What? Call LAPD for that," Jennings said impatiently. He looked at his screen; the trace had not found any results yet.

"I'd rather talk to you," the voice continued, still speaking very slowly and calmly. "There has been a murder, several in fact. The bodies are in a house in Burbank. The address is Angeleno Avenue. The house is pretty run-down, you'll know which one it is. Good day."

A click on the other end told Jennings that the other person had hung up. He checked his computer to see if the trace had come up with anything. What he did see was very irregular. He pressed the intercom button on his phone.

"Bauer," the voice answered.

"Jack, can you come up here for a moment please?" Jennings asked.

"I was just leaving for the day," Jack replied.

"Please Jack," Jennings said.

"All right. I'll be right there."

Jack Bauer walked across the CTU floor towards the Director's office. He had been re-instated for over six months, and he did not appreciate still only being Head of Tactical, not when he used to be the Director himself. But now that was Tony's job, although while he and Michelle were on their honeymoon, technically it was Jennings's job. Jack didn't mind Jennings, he was quite by-the-book at times, but nowhere near as bad as some of the bureaucrats he had worked for.

"You wanted to see me," Jack said when he got up there. Jennings was a tall man, approaching his fifties, with occasional flecks of grey in his dark hair, and his hardened face was starting to show some lines.

"I just got a strange phone call," Jennings said straight away. "Someone reported a multiple-murder. But I think it was the murderer who called us."

"Why did that get sent to us?" Jack asked, confused. "Shouldn't that be a job for LAPD?"

Jennings shrugged. "It wasn't sent to me, they called my direct line. The even stranger thing is that I tried to trace the call, but they didn't use the phone. It was sent over an encrypted IP address; these guys know what they're doing."

"I still don't see why I need to take this case," Jack stated. "I'm just about to go home, there's at least a dozen field agents who could take this."

"Because there could be trouble there," Jennings answered. "You're the only guy I know can handle it. Please, Jack."

"Okay," Jack relented. He turned and left the office. When Jack was gone, Jennings pressed his intercom button again.

"O'Brian," the female voice answered.

"Chloe," Jennings said to the new analyst. He didn't like her, but this was a simple enough job for her. "I've sent Bauer into the field. Dispatch LAPD to Angeleno Avenue in Burbank to back him up."

"Erm… Okay then," she said nervously, and disconnected.

Jennings sighed. That girl was hopeless.

* * *

Karsen reviewed the call on his laptop. CTU had not managed to trace his IP address, he was certain of that. He picked up his cell phone and dialled. 

"I've made the call," he said to the man on the other end. "The agent will be at the Burbank house in roughly ten minutes. Once he is inside I will make the next call."

Karsen listened to the reply from the man. "Don't worry, we will have him in time, but we must be smart about this," Karsen added. "My manpower for this operation is limited, I must hide both from the government and my own people if I am to be successful."

The man on the other end started to speak in more urgent tones.

"What would it achieve if we tried to take him ourselves?" Karsen replied. "No, we must play the system to our advantage. The agent will be with you shortly, my friend. I give you my word."

He hung up. Karsen was irritated with that man. Even though he had brought the man into this himself, he wondered if it was a mistake. But that man had information that was very difficult to obtain. He had had no choice, he only hoped the man would not be the weak link in the chain. If so, this operation they had spent months preparing would fail.

Turning back to the laptop, Karsen opened up a folder, and one by one opened each of the picture files inside it. Each was a close up of a brutally murdered person. However much of a liability he thought that man was, there was no denying he did excellent work.

* * *

Nick Lewis was sitting down to dinner in his suburban house with his wife and two year old daughter, when he faintly heard his cell phone start to ring in the next room. He quickly rose to get it but his wife Emma beat him to it. She walked out of the dining room with a playful smile on her face. 

"Who is it?" Nick called to her nervously.

Emma came back in, looking at the display of her husband's phone. "Simon," she muttered. Nick tensely grabbed the phone from her and took it into the living room.

"Hello, sir," Nick answered.

"_Lewis, I have a job for you today_." 'Simon's' voice on the other end said to him without preamble.

"What sort of job?" Nick asked.

"_Nothing big_," Simon replied. "_Just a bit of extra muscle for a minor operation we've got planned today_."

"What sort of operation?"

"_That's none of your concern, Lewis. Just report to me within the hour._"

"Yes, sir. I will, sir." Nick hung up the phone and put it in his pocket. When he re-entered the dining room, Emma looked up at him expectantly.

"Everything okay?" she asked him.

"Yeah, that was just someone from work," Nick told her hastily. "I have to go in for a little while."

Emma's face fell. "You haven't been called into work for weeks and they do it now? We're in the middle of dinner, Nick."

Nick walked up to his wife and put his arms around her. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'll make it up to you, I promise."

Emma rolled her eyes and kissed him lightly on the lips. Nick smiled and left the house. He walked down his driveway and remotely unlocked his car from five paces away.

A shot rang out and Nick fell to the ground.

The sniper that had killed him from a block away got back into his car and drive away, unnoticed. Emma heard the shot and went out to see what was happening. When she saw her husband's body, she let out a piercing scream and ran back into the house to dial the police.

* * *

Jack turned into Angeleno Avenue, and started looking for a run-down house, as Jennings had told him over his radio on the way there. Just under half way down the road, he saw a promising looking house, with a police unit waiting outside of it. 

He pulled up, and got out of his car to meet them. He showed them his identification.

"Sergeant Jarrett," one of them identified himself. "We were told to stand down until you got here. From what we were told, this sounds like an act of terrorism, and that's your department."

Jack nodded. "I'll take a look inside. I'll have my radio on channel two, so I can tell you guys what I find."

He opened the front door, and walked inside. The house looked completely uninhabitable. Even though the sun was setting, there was still a moderate amount of daylight outside, but inside there was an eerie dinginess in the air, as well as a damp, rotting smell. The walls were crumbling and the ceiling looked close to caving in.

Jack walked up the stairs, carefully testing each step was strong enough before he put his full weight onto it. Once he was at the top of the landing he found the first body; a teenage girl. She was around fifteen years old, had dirty blonde hair and was wearing an old, faded jacket over a muddy shirt and worn jeans. All of her clothes were heavily stained with blood, which had originated from the deep cuts in both of her wrists. As hardened as Jack had become in all his years on the job, seeing her still-open eyes gaze blankly at the wall made him feel slightly sick. He took his radio out of his pocket.

"First body found on upstairs landing," he said in the most business-like tone he could muster. This was his job, after all, and he should not appear affected. "White teenage female, wrists slit. Proceeding to search bedrooms."

The first room he looked in was completely bare, free from both bodies and furniture. The second room contained only a bed. Its wrought-iron rails were greatly rusted and there was no mattress or bedclothes. When Jack came to the next door, he opened it slowly and the creaking echoed throughout the house. Less than two feet from the doorway was another body, this one of a young man who seemed to be of Islamic decent. His was wearing a thin light t-shirt with many holes in it, although Jack was not certain of its colour, given the darkness of the room, and the fact that it was almost completely covered in both dirt and dried blood from the slash across his throat. Just like the girl, his eyes were still open.

"Second body, Middle Eastern male, early twenties. Throat slit. So far both bodies seem to have been dead for at least a few hours if not more. The blood's dry but I don't see any signs of decay, so definitely not more than a day or two in this temperature."

There were no other rooms leading from the main corridor. Jack thought that perhaps the damage was not as severe as the report had suggested. He took out his flashlight and shone it around the room to see if there was any evidence there. He saw another door from the third room in a shadowy corner. Cautiously he walked towards it and turned the handle. When he walked inside, he could not believe what he saw.

The room was an on-suite bathroom, but every inch of the floor was covered in bodies, and the bath by the wall opposite the door was filled over the top with corpses. Jack had to lean over at least two bodies to reach the grimy toilet; he lifted the lid and retched into it. He spat the remains in his mouth into the bowl before putting the lid back down and wiped his lips with the back of his sleeve.

"Estimated between thirty to forty bodies in bathroom adjoining the bedroom at the end of the hall," he said into his radio, fighting to keep his voice from wavering. "Of the ones visible, cause of death for all seems to be stabbings or lacerations."

Jack peered through the gloom at all of them. Not one looked like they were older than twenty-five. He could see dead people of every colour, so that ruled out racial attacks.

"Agent Bauer?" a voice called from the other side of the door. A man walked into the bathroom, and instantly Jack saw a wave of disgust flicker across his face as he entered. "Officer Roland, Homicide," he identified himself, and Jack noticed for the first time that he was wearing an LAPD uniform. When he spoke, he was careful to look only at Jack, and not at anything else in the room. "Chief Hendrix sent me in to accompany you, he thought you could use a hand sorting through the… this," he finished somewhat timidly.

"Thanks," Jack replied. "I can see now why your captain thought this could be an act of terrorism. We need to get these bodies ID'ed, figure out if there was any link between them or if it was just a random slaughter."

Roland nodded, still not taking his gaze off of Jack. "Personnel at the morgue have already been notified of a possible heavy arrival."

"Good. We need to find out as much as we can before they're moved though. They've been thrown around pretty carelessly so I doubt this was a personal attack on any of them. What do we know about them? They all seem quite young…" Jack started.

For the first time since coming in, Roland looked properly around the room. Even though he looked absolutely appalled, Jack admired the fact that Roland did not vomit as he had.

"Diverse ethnicity," Roland continued. "All seem quite poorly dressed, and… oh god…"

"What?" Jack asked, looking at him.

"All of their eyes are open."

* * *

"David, are you all right? David!" 

Wayne Palmer held onto his brother as he gasped for breath. The President clutched his chest and steadied himself. Eventually, his breathing returned to normal and he was able to stand up straight.

"It's nothing," Palmer replied firmly.

"David, it's clearly not nothing. I wish you would listen to me, you're not fit enough to run the country," Wayne retorted.

"Please, we've had this discussion a thousand times."

"And we'll have it a thousand more until you start to see sense. I'll be honest, I don't like seeing you like this. I know if the public knew what condition you were really in, they wouldn't be confident in your ability to lead the country."

"So what do you suggest?" Palmer asked simply. "That I give command of this country back to Prescott?"

"That's not what I'm saying," Wayne said impatiently. "You know how I feel about Prescott anyway. While you were in that coma, and when you were still recovering, it was all I could do to work for him, especially after he tried to take control of this country anyway from you."

"Water under the bridge, Wayne," Palmer said with a slight chuckle entering his voice.

"The bottom line is, you're still not fully recuperated. If, God forbid, an incident arose, I don't have faith that you would be up to it. You know I'm right, David, deep down."

Palmer sighed, unable to deny the truth in his brother's words. "Then let us pray that this country remains safe."

* * *

Jennings walked out of his office and down onto the floor. He approached Adrian Rouse, head of the communications department. 

"Adrian, we heard anything from Jack yet?" he asked.

"No, sir," he replied. "But we do have the exact address of the house he's looking at." He opened a new window on his computer, which contained a street map with a red circle in the middle, indicating where the house was.

"What do we know about the place?" Jennings asked.

"Not much, sir," Adrian answered. "No registered owner for at least the last five years. Looks like it's just been abandoned."

Jennings thought for a moment. "Get in touch with someone in the police unit on sight. I had a feeling there might be trouble when I first got the call, I don't want to stay out of communication with them. Anything could be happening over there and we wouldn't know."

* * *

Jack and Roland had helped the other policemen load most of the bodies onto stretchers and taken them out of the building until there were less than ten remaining. 

"Agent Roland do you copy?" said a voice on Roland's radio.

"I copy," Roland replied.

"You have a 10-47 in progress. Please step outside."

"Acknowledged," Roland said. "I'm sorry Jack, I'll be right back."

Jack nodded at him as he walked out of the room. He surveyed the room once again when he was alone. All of the bathroom fixtures were chipped and filthy, the mirror was cracked and the single window was so mucky that it would not have let in the daylight even if it was noon. Jack looked at the bodies still be to taken away, they were all in the bathtub. One man lying face up had no recognisable injury, although another body covered most of his chest. Jack lifted up the woman on top of him and saw a dozen stab marks covering his torso. As he moved the woman, a vast amount of change fell out of her pocket, making a loud clanging against the enamel of the bath, causing Jack to jump. Now that he thought about it, lots of the victims had carried change in their pocket when they had been removed, but none had any paper money or wallets. Jack realised how rough they all looked…

"Jack," he heard Roland say behind him.

"Roland, listen," Jack said as he turned around to face the police officer. "I think these people were all homeless. They look so downtrodden and dirty. I'm sure that means the murderer or murderers killed just for the sake of killing, just to amass a body count. But why?"

Roland furrowed his brow. "I don't know, it's a good theory though."

Jack suddenly noticed that Roland was looking only at the bodies in the bathtub, while previously he had been doing his best not to look at them, even when he was placing them onto stretchers. Jack took in the rest of Roland's person, and noticed his right hand was twitching, as though he were tempted to reach for his gun. Something was very wrong.

"Maybe you should radio your captain, let him know what I just said," Jack told him casually.

"Sure thing," Roland agreed, but as his right hand reached for his radio, Jack lunged at him. He twisted the right arm behind his back and grabbed his gun, before tucking it into his belt and putting Roland into a full headlock.

"What the hell, Bauer?" Roland demanded as he and Jack struggled.

"Don't play dumb with me," Jack barked. "What's going on here?"

"I don't know what you're talking ab-- ah!" he screamed as Jack grabbed his neck and started choking him.

"I don't want to hurt you, but I will if you don't give me some answers!" Jack spat, loosening the pressure slightly in case Roland wanted to talk.

"Okay!" Roland screamed. "I've been told to treat you as a hostile, and this just proves it!"

"Who gave you that information?" Jack commanded.

"The station. I was told to take you into custody, but to wait for an opportune moment. They said you wouldn't go down without a fight."

"Well at least you got that part right," Jack said with a smirk.

Suddenly, Roland broke free from Jack's grip and swung around at him, but without missing a beat Jack shoved him with all his strength. Roland flew back across the room and hit his head on the wall, falling unconscious to the ground.

Jack cocked Roland's gun, his own was still in its holster at his side. He peered as best as he could out of the translucent bathroom window into the darkness outside and saw an entire police unit out there. He was surrounded.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered.

* * *

"Adrian, have you got in touch with LAPD yet?" Jennings asked. 

"No, and they don't seem to want to put me through," Adrian said. He had only just put the phone down after trying once again to get in touch with them.

"What? Why would that be?" Jennings said.

"I don't know. I get the feeling they're stonewalling."

"Let me do this," Jennings suggested. He dialled central dispatch on speakerphone from Adrian's station. "This is Gary Jennings, Director of the Counter Terrorist Unit," he said when a woman answered. "Can you put me through to the police unit sent to the house in Burbank to back up one of my agents?"

"Hold for one second please," the woman told him. After a pause she started to talk again. "Sir, I have been told that the unit is handling a situation and are not to be disturbed."

"I don't care what you've been told," Jennings snapped. "We have jurisdiction on this case, put me through now, or let me talk to your superior."

"I'll connect you with the officer on site," the woman said.

As the call was being transferred, Adrian said to Jennings, " 'Handling a situation', that's what they kept saying to me. I don't buy it."

Before Jennings could comment, a man spoke on the phone.

"This is Sergeant Jarrett. Who am I talking to?"

"Gary Jennings, Head of CTU. Can I speak to agent Jack Bauer?"

"I'm sorry Mr. Jennings, Agent Bauer is indisposed. He's inside the house and we shouldn't interrupt him. We'll make sure to have him call you when he's available."

Jarrett hung up. Jennings and Adrian traded looks.

"What the hell is going on over there?" Adrian said.

"I don't know," Jennings replied. He hoped nothing had happened to Jack. If it had, it would be all his fault.

* * *

Was it a mistake? Or is somebody out to get me? thought Jack as he continued to look at the police outside waiting for him. He knew that whatever the reason, if he stepped out of the house, they would take him into custody. Meanwhile there was a mass murderer on the loose who had killed a lot of people and was definitely willing and perhaps even planning to kill a lot more. He had to escape. 

There were at least 12 armed men out there. But he was Jack Bauer, he reminded himself. He could do this.

Looking around the room, he started to formulate a plan. It was by no means perfect, in fact he didn't think his odds were very good. He walked over to the bathroom sink and turned a tap on. Thankfully, the water was still working, and he splashed some cold water on Roland's face. Roland started to stir, and eventually opened his eyes.

"Hey," Jack snapped before he could say anything, and made sure his eyes were focussed and he was not dazed. "Listen to me; I am innocent, and I don't care whether you believe it or not. But I am not going into custody, I know those people, they would keep me in there, going through hours or days of bureaucracy, until they finally realised I had done nothing wrong, by which time this killer could have struck again. So you're going to help me get away."

"Go to hell, Bauer," Roland said. "I'm not helping you."

Jack smiled. "I don't need you to do anything, I just need you conscious."

He held up Roland's own gun and scooped the man up. Jack pushed Roland against a wall and patted him down to make sure he was not carrying any more weapons. Once he was satisfied, he grasped Roland in a hostage position. He roughly dragged him out of the room and down the stairs.

"And you say you're innocent," Roland sneered as they went. "What's the plan, Jack? You're gonna get away from the whole unit just because you've got me as your hostage? That'll never work."

"Shut up," Jack spat as they got to the front door.

The instant he opened the door, the air filled with the sound of a dozen guns being drawn and cocked. Sergeant Jarrett stepped forward.

"Release Officer Roland, Bauer," he called.

"First tell me what it is you think I've done," Jack yelled back at him.

"We weren't given specifics," Jarrett replied. "But they said you'd turned and we needed to take action. Now let Roland go."

Jack took a few steps out of the door, still keeping a tight hold on Roland. "Which one is your squad car?" Jack murmured to him.

"Second left from the corner," Roland replied grudgingly.

Slowly, Jack walked towards the car. The rest of the police never took their guns off of him. When they got close, Jack pushed Roland a few steps ahead of him but kept his gun carefully pointed at his head.

"Get in," Jack said shortly, indicating the driving seat. Roland got into the car, but as he closed the door another officer charged at Jack. He was too busy looking at Roland to react, and the officer was able to immobilise him. One of the others placed handcuffs on him.

"Jack Bauer," said Sergeant Jarrett with some satisfaction. "You have the right to remain silent."

7:00pm


	2. 7:00pm to 8:00pm

7:00pm to 8:00pm

A ragged-looking man sat alone in darkness. His hair was a dark, greasy brown colour, and he had obviously not shaved for more than a few days. Barely visible on the desk in front of him were several folders, binders and loose papers. He seemed to be staring at them, but in fact was completely lost in thought, not giving the documents the slightest bit of attention. He lit a cigarette, and what little light there was became hazed in a white cloud of smoke.

Suddenly, the ringing of a phone cut through the silence. In no particular rush, the man took the phone out of his pocket and answered it.

"Yes?" he said hoarsely.

"They have him," came a voice on the other end of the line. "We will move into position now and prepare to strike in fifteen minutes."

"Thank you," the man replied, and hung up. He placed the phone on his desk and picked up one of the folders. The seal on the front of it read 'COUNTER TERRORIST UNIT'. From it he took some photographs and started flipping through them. He stopped when he came to the one he was looking for. The photograph showed himself, standing with Jack and two other men.

"Today, Bauer," he croaked as he squinted at the picture in the dim light. "Today you pay."

* * *

Jack sat cuffed in the back of a squad car. Sergeant Jarrett was driving and Officer Roland sat in the shotgun seat. 

"I'm telling you, I'm innocent," Jack said to them for the hundredth time.

"Quiet, Bauer," Roland snapped. He had been very irritated with Jack for the whole ride, because of Jack trying to take him hostage.

"Just let me talk to my boss, Gary Jennings," he requested. "He'll help me find out what this is all about. I think someone's trying to set me up."

"Do you know how many people have sat in the back of this car and said that?" Jarrett said with a chuckle. "Granted, none of them were federal agents, but the outcome was always the same; they were lying. So do yourself a favour and wait to speak to an attorney."

Jack fell into silence. There was nothing he could do here, he would have to wait until they got to the station to sort this mess out, if he could.

* * *

Karsen's van arrived at an apartment building. Karsen and his two henchmen got out and the van drove away. The three of them entered the building and took the elevator up to a high floor. They then entered an apartment that was well furnished, and was clearly lived in. 

"Good thing we got here so soon, I was almost out of battery," Karsen said with a laugh. He plugged his laptop into a wall socket, turned it back on, and set it down on a coffee table.

"You want a beer?" one of the other men asked as he walked towards the kitchen.

"No, thank you," Karsen replied with distain. "And you'll both stick to one. We're not paying you two to sit around drinking."

"What about some chips?" he called from the next room.

"It may have escaped your notice, but I have an important job to do," Karsen snapped. "Anyway, how would you like me to tell Burton what you were doing on his time?"

The henchman returned with two beers and a large pack of potato chips, but said nothing else.

Karsen turned his attention back to his computer. He spent some time reviewing various bank transfers, all the while his henchmen sat silently on the couch. One of the men opened the bag of potato chips and started eating them. Karsen winced at the loud crunches, incredibly irritated. He drew his silenced gun, turned away from the computer and plugged two bullets into the man who had been eating. He then pointed his gun at the one remaining man.

"Do something with the body, would you? Thanks," he said cheerfully.

The henchman dragged the body out of the room, and Karsen went back to his laptop. He closed the bank statements, and then opened up a webcam feed. It showed a middle-aged woman and two boys, one in his early teens and the other no older than eight. They were all bound and gagged.

"Good to see his family is okay," Karsen said to himself.

* * *

When they got to the station, Jack was led into an interrogation room. They put him in a chair, and Sergeant Jarrett sat in a chair on the opposite side of a table. There was a large one-way mirror behind Jarrett, the kind that Jack had seen every day in the CTU interrogation room. 

"Well, well," Jarrett said in a very arrogant tone. "We've got a bit more information on you, Jack. Seems you've been selling classified information."

"What?" Jack said, completely stunned. How could they think he would do something like that?

"It's all right here," Jarrett said, holding a government file in his hands. "It says you've been selling structural information, personnel files, access codes, everything."

"That's crazy," Jack said calmly. "I would never do that. Take a look at my service record. You'll see I'm not that sort of agent."

"Oh I have looked at it," Jarrett replied, taking out another file. "Most of it is very impressive. But on the other hand…you were removed as head of the CTU Domestic Unit after you were thought to be in league with the terrorists trying to assassinate Palmer. You were inactive for over a year in order to deal with a crisis in your personal life."

Jack stared incredulously at Jarrett. He couldn't believe this man was twisting everything he had done for his country to try to make him fit the profile of a traitor.

"This is bull," Jack said in frustration. "I am not a double agent."

"Seems to make sense to me," Jarrett said levelly. "Do you know what this record tells me? It tells me that you were willing to sacrifice everything for this country, but a good deed never goes unpunished. You saved Palmer, and not only did you get fired but your wife was killed. It doesn't take too much imagination to see why you snapped, why you decided you wouldn't take it anymore."

Jack said nothing. He stared at the handcuffs on his wrists, not believing that it had come to this.

"Please," Jack said, his voice sounding hollow and defeated. "Please just call Gary Jennings."

Jarrett gave Jack a pitiful look that made Jack want to tear the man's chest open. "Okay Jack. Feldman!" he called into the mirror. "Get Jack's boss on the phone."

They sat for a few moments, but there was no reply.

"Feldman?" Jarrett repeated. He took out his radio. "Feldman, do you copy?" There was still no answer. "Feldman? McAvoy? Roland? Does anyone copy?"

After another long silence, a voice could be heard over Jarrett's radio. "This is Roland," he said, but he sounded panicked and out of breath. "Feldman and McAvoy are both dead. I don't know about anyone else in the station."

"What happened?" Jarrett demanded.

"Armed men came and shot them both, I've got two on my tail."

"How many men are there?" Jarrett asked, drawing his own gun and eying the door.

"I've counted five," Roland replied. "But there could be more of them. I'm trying to draw them all towards --" Two shots were heard over the radio, then it went silent.

Jarrett bowed his head gravely.

"I'm sorry about Roland and the others," Jack said. "But you can't hold these guys off by yourself."

"Do you think I'm gonna let you help me, Jack?" Jarrett commented. "You're still in custody."

"I give you my word that I've done nothing wrong," Jack said firmly. "I think this whole thing was set up to get me into the open and come after me. You need my help, release me if you want to live."

Jarrett considered it, then unlocked Jack's handcuffs and handed him a gun. "I don't like this, but I don't have a choice," he said.

"Roland said that there were at least five," Jack said. "He also said only two of them were after him, so the rest must have split up. What's the shortest and most direct way out of this station?"

"There's a fire exit on the other side of the holding cells," Jarrett replied.

Jack walked to the side of the door, pointed his gun outwards, and nodded at Jarrett to open it. Jarrett did so with Jack covering him. There was nobody outside the door. The two of them continued in this formation along the corridor until they reached the holding cells. There were at least twenty people in the cells, most of them well-built men.

"Hey!" One of the men shouted. "Those men that just ran by must be looking for these pigs! _They're by the cells!_" he yelled, loud enough to be heard throughout the station.

Jack was tempted to shoot the man just to shut him up, but he knew the damage had already been done. He and Jarrett ran full-pelt to the exit, but two of the men caught up with them. One of them shoved Jarrett up against the bars of the cells, where the prisoners on the other side held his arms there. The other of them tried to grab Jack's gun, but Jack punched the man away, and once he had regained his composure, he shot the man twice in the chest.

Meanwhile, the first attacker had pulled Jarrett's keys out of his pocket and took his gun while he was held in place. The man pointed his gun at the prisoners nearest the cell door.

"Back away from the door and I'll make it worth your while!" he barked at them. They moved away, and the man unlocked the door. He then threw Jarrett into the cell, where all of the prisoners started to beat the policeman suddenly locked in with them.

Jack shot him in the head, and he fell to the floor. The men in the cell were cheering as they pounded Jarrett.

"He's dead!" one of them cried victoriously.

"Dammit," Jack muttered as he continued to run towards the exit. He reached the door and ran out of it. A shot narrowly avoided him, and Jack realised that more men were pursuing him. He ran into the parking lot, but did not know what he was planning to do. He had no keys to any of the cars, and his own car was back at the crime scene.

Several more men ran out of the station after him, and a car swerved around and started to come after Jack too. The driver started to fire through his windshield, but the bullets missed and Jack was able to fire back. Jack, on the other hand, did not miss and the man fell forwards in his seat as the car rolled to a stop.

Still avoiding bullets being shot by the hostiles, Jack shot through the car window and was able to open the door. He pulled the dead driver out and got in. He drove away, but the men chasing him got into a car of their own.

Jack drove down the street as fast as he could, trying to shake them off but he couldn't. Suddenly, another car drove out in front of him, cutting him off. He tried to reverse but the car behind him made it impossible. Jack got out of the car, but the two men in the front seats of the car in front of him were both pointing guns at him.

"Don't move, Bauer," one of them said.

The two men in the car behind him were also aiming their guns at him. Jack realised that the men knew his name, which confirmed in his head that this was a personal attack. Knowing that shooting any of the men would not help him, since there would still be another three men ready to shoot, he dropped his gun to the ground. The men instantly advanced on him, and one of them hit him hard on the back of the head, knocking him out.

* * *

Jennings sat in his office in CTU when his intercom rang. 

"Jennings," he answered.

"It's Rouse," Adrian answered.

"Is this about Jack?"

"Yeah, kinda," Adrian replied. "I was trying to get through to LAPD again, and instead of stalling me, the line went dead completely. Now I don't know if that means they're getting more impatient with me and just hung up, or something else."

"You think something might've happened at LAPD?" Jennings asked.

"I dunno, maybe. What do you want me to do?"

Jennings thought for a second. "Dispatch a field agent to LAPD to find out what's going on."

"Just one agent?" Adrian repeated. "If there are hostiles at LAPD headquarters I doubt one agent could handle that."

"But I hardly think it's anything that serious. Like you said, I'm sure they just hung up on you. Send one agent." Jennings ended the call.

Adrian paused before pressing the intercom again. "Dispatch," he said slowly. "I need you to send two field agents to LAPD down town."

"Will do," the person on the other end said.

"And," he hesitated again. "Make sure they report straight back to me on channel nine."

"Okay," the dispatch agent said.

They hung up. Adrian felt slightly silly, one extra agent was not going to make much difference. But if Jack Bauer was in trouble, he wanted to know that he had done what he could to help.

* * *

Dr. Oberman read President Palmer's blood pressure. 

"I don't like this," he said plainly. "Your blood pressure is high, too high."

"Maybe it's the stress of running the most powerful country in the world," Palmer replied with a smile at the corner of his mouth.

"In part, yes," Dr. Oberman said humourlessly. "Without doing a full work-up on you, I can't say for sure, but I'd say there were still traces of the toxin in your system. I would recommend you taking some more time off."

"Out of the question," Palmer said.

"Mr. President," Dr. Oberman said cautiously. "I don't think your cabinet would be pleased to hear the condition you're in, and the fact that you refuse to take medical advise and spend some time relaxing."

"Well I'm sorry if I'm not in the mood for a weekend at the beach," Palmer shot back.

"What I suggest would be considerably more than a weekend, sir," Dr. Oberman said.

"Do you intend to inform my cabinet as to the state of my health?" Palmer asked him.

"No sir," Dr. Oberman said. "It's not my place. But please, sir, I urge you to take my advice and take an extended leave from the Presidency."

Palmer looked at his doctor for a while. "Your concerns will be taken into account," he said. But he didn't mean it. Nobody was going to make him relinquish command of the country again.

* * *

Jack came to as one of the men who had attacked them hoisted him onto his shoulders. Jack did not make any movements to let them know he was conscious. The man carried him towards a black car parked outside the building. When they were approaching the parking space, Jack hit the man hard in the head with his elbow. The man did not go down, but in his pain let go of Jack, who slipped down onto his feet. The other four men ran to him, and Jack was able to punch and kick a few of them before they had a secure hold of him again. When they took him back to the car, Jack feigned a struggle, but managed to kick the taillight and shatter it. The men threw him roughly into the back of the car, and two of them got in it. The other three got into a car parked nearby. 

He said nothing as they started to drive. They were clearly going to take him to the person really behind this plan.

* * *

As Karsen continued tapping on his keyboard, his phone rang yet again. He checked the caller ID and rolled his eyes. 

"What is it now?" he asked immediately as he answered.

"I'm waiting, dammit," the ragged man said gruffly. "And I've been waiting for too long."

"Calm down," Karsen said impatiently. "It's been barely, what, an hour and a half since you last called me."

"I wasn't talking about how long I've been waiting today."

"I know, but like I told you before, my manpower is limited. The last thing we need right now is to draw attention to ourselves," Karsen told the man. "I'm afraid everything is happening as fast as possible, but you have to understand that this is not all about you. We have a higher goal to achieve than satisfying your revenge."

"But you still need my information, and if you want to get it I want him delivered to me now."

"I haven't heard from my men yet, but I'm sure they have him already and he's on his way to you now," Karsen said, barely able to keep the rage out of his voice over this man's selfish attitude. "I hope you know what's at stake here, and I can't afford to have you jeopardising everything just because you can't wait an extra ten minutes to kill a man."

"I'm not in a rush to kill him," the man said, and Karsen could hear even over the phone that the man currently had a fiendish grin on his face. "In fact I plan to take my time, I want to make him suffer, to give him a taste of what I have felt because of him."

"Whatever," Karsen dismissed. "I don't care what you do to this guy, all I care about is my pay check. And it should be sizable enough to compensate me for all the risks and sacrifices I've made for this operation."

"You act like this is some noble task you're doing," the man said with mild disgust. "Nobody made you become a double agent. Someone dangles a couple million in your face and you turned traitor. But hey, I'm not judging you."

"I should hope not," Karsen sneered. "After all, you know a thing or two about turning traitor."

"And I paid the price for it. Incidentally, when am I seeing some of this money?"

"It will be wired to you once you provide the information as we discussed. Besides, the bulk of your payment is on his way to you now."

"Oh yes," Karsen heard a short, bark-like laugh over the phone. "I'd take Jack Bauer's pain over a million dollars any day."

Karsen could sense that the man was becoming pacified now, and it would be a good time to get off the phone with him. "Anyway I still have things to do, so you should let me get back to it."

"Of course," the man agreed.

"Don't call me again unless it's an emergency," Karsen pressed. "The last thing either of us needs is a stronger link between you and me."

They both hung up without pleasantries.

"What the hell did this Bauer guy do to him that messed him up so bad?" Karsen muttered to himself.

* * *

The familiar intercom noise distracted Adrian from his work. When he looked at his phone, he saw that it was coming from channel nine, which meant it had to be the agents he had sent to check up on Jack. 

"CTU, Rouse," he answered.

"This is Agent Wright," said the man on the other end. "Agent Martin and I are at LAPD. There are fifteen dead bodies over here. Four of them are cops and three look like some of the hostiles. We've taken the ID's of the cops."

"Is there a Sergeant Jarrett among them? He was heading up the Burbank mission with Agent Bauer," Adrian asked.

"Yeah, he was found dead in one of the cells," Agent Wright answered.

"What about Agent Bauer?" Adrian asked.

"I don't see him, but knowing Jack, if he was here I'm sure he was the one who killed the hostiles."

"Well he hasn't been in contact, which means if he was there when it happened and he survived, he must have been taken captive."

"There's one more thing, maybe unrelated," Agent Wright told him. "We found some broken glass outside the station, looked like it was from a taillight. I don't know if that's relevant or not."

"Okay, thanks," Adrian said, and he disconnected the call. Not wanting to tell him over the intercom, Adrian ran up to Jennings's office.

"What is it?" Jennings asked, concerned, when he burst through the door without knocking.

"PD's been hit," Adrian said quickly. "The officer Jack was with in Burbank was one of the dead, and there's no sign of Jack anywhere."

"My god," Jennings said.

"The agent said that they found taillight glass at the site," Adrian told him.

Jennings thought for a second and nodded. He pressed his intercom button.

"O'Brian," said a tense voice.

"Chloe, I need you to log on to the traffic cams," Jennings said to her.

"I'm busy, can't someone else do it?" Chloe asked.

"Chloe, when I tell you to do something I don't expect you to talk back to me," Jennings said sternly. "Now I need you to find a vehicle travelling away from LAPD in any direction that has a taillight out."

"Okay, but for the record, I was in the middle of something else," Chloe said.

"Well whatever it is, this is more important. We have an agent's life in danger, so do it _now!_" he raised his voice at her.

There was a brief silence over the line, and Jennings heard Chloe end the call without saying anything else.

Adrian and Jennings traded a look between them. "That girl is really weird," Adrian commented.

* * *

Palmer walked back down the corridor towards the Oval Office. Wayne was waiting by the door. 

"Well, what did the doctor say?" he asked Palmer.

His brother brushed past him without looking him in the eye. "I have a country to run, Wayne," he said.

Wayne sighed. "I'm sorry, David," he muttered under his breath, and walked away from the President's office.

* * *

The car started to slow down. Jack tried to look at where they were, but he had been restrained. He managed to lift his head enough to see that they were in an industrial area. They came to a stop and the men got out of the front. They opened up the back door and roughly dragged Jack out. He tried to struggle against them but couldn't as they took him into a large factory. 

As they went up countless flights of stairs, Jack tried to see out of the windows to get any clue as to where they were. But everything looked the same as any other industrial landscape in the Los Angeles area.

Once they reached one of the top floors, they took Jack into a small room. It was very poorly lit, with only one small lamp by one wall, which apart from a desk and a chair in the middle was the only furniture.

There was a man standing in the room, in front of the lamp so his face was hidden in shadow.

"Leave us," he croaked to the other two, and they promptly walked out of the room. "Well, well, Jack Bauer at my mercy," he said with satisfaction when they were alone.

"Who are you?" Jack asked. The man abruptly grabbed the lamp and held it under his face, so his features were grotesquely exaggerated by the light.

"Seth?" Jack said in disbelief.

The ragged man smiled. "Glad you remembered me, old friend."

8:00pm


	3. 8:00pm to 9:00pm

8:00pm to 9:00pm

Vice President Jim Prescott looked over his latest security briefing. Everything was in order, for the most part. There were a few minor incidents, as always, but they were to be expected. This was America, after all. He looked around his office, it depressed him. Even though it was rather large, definitely nothing to scoff at, but it didn't compare with the President's office he had become used to sitting in while Palmer was recuperating. He liked the big office, he liked the big role. Second in command of the world's most powerful country, and he suddenly felt like having a task of importance could not be any further away.

Palmer had not even been back at work a month, and already he was showing signs of weakness, in Prescott's mind. They were only ever relatively small things, but enough to make him feel uneasy. Moments of confusion, times when he had shown difficulty in paying attention, and a general detached attitude that made it seem more like Palmer was reading an interesting novel than running a country.

In any case, he was hesitant about attempting to invoke the 25th Amendment again. The first time, he had genuinely thought he was acting in the best interests of the country. Palmer had unquestioningly shown indecisiveness that threatened to endanger thousands of American lives. As far as he was concerned, he had done what needed to be done. He had felt terrible when they found out that Palmer had been right all along, and even refused to resign, but Palmer would not hear of it. Of course, barely half an hour later, he was called on to act as the President again…

"Mr. Vice President," his secretary said to him over the speakerphone.

"Yes, Angela?" he said to her.

"The Chief of Staff is here to see you."

Prescott was temporarily stunned. "Very well, send him in."

He had never liked Palmer's annoying little brother. He remembered when Palmer had emerged from his coma, the first thing he did was to insist his brother occupy the post. But Prescott hated him being there, always ready with a snide or sarcastic remark. He wondered what on earth he could want to talk to him about.

* * *

"Surprised to see me, Jack?" Seth Campbell asked. "It's been a long time."

Jack tried to tug against the ropes around his hands and feet. "I didn't even know you'd been released from federal prison."

"No, I don't expect you to take much interest in people after you put them away," Campbell said. "Even if they are former comrades."

"What did you expect, Seth?" Jack asked. "I found out that you and two other agents had been taking bribes. Did you expect me to just look the other way? I'm sorry but I couldn't do that."

Campbell gave a short laugh. "And you've never violated any orders, have you Jack? I had a look at your profile, it's very - interesting. Impressive, of course, I'd imagine nothing less from you. But from what I saw, you have no problem with breaking a rule or two."

"I only break the rules when it's necessary, to help people," Jack replied simply. "Not to help myself."

"I wish we all had your prerogative to choose which laws we could and couldn't follow," Campbell said with a rueful smile. "Unfortunately there wasn't a President willing to step in on my behalf."

"So what, you killed forty homeless people and dumped their bodies in a house, called CTU and hoped I'd get assigned to the case?" Jack asked.

Campbell laughed again, but this time he seemed to be hiding something from Jack. "Something like that, yeah."

"How did you know I would? There are dozens of field agents who could have just as easily been assigned the case," Jack said slowly.

"Well, something told me the CTU Director would want to send in his best agent to handle a case like that," Campbell replied. "And from what I know, that's you Jack."

"And this was all just to get revenge for putting you away?"

"Oh, not just for that," Campbell said to him sinisterly. "Or don't you know about everything else that happened to me?"

"What are you talking about?" Jack asked him.

"My wife, Judy," Campbell said, and he moved another step closer to Jack, so his sunken eyes were more visible in the shadows. "She hung herself while I was inside. I remember the day they told me, before that she had been all that was keeping me going. Every day I had been thinking to myself, I just had to keep holding on until I got out, then I could see her again. But after she died, I had nothing to go back to, so I tried to end it. I managed to slit my wrists, but even that didn't go as I wanted. They found me and rushed me to a clinic, and then I had to endure a mental health review committee. I tell you, there's nothing worse than hearing a panel of 'experts' sitting around calling you crazy."

"You really think you're sane?" Jack challenged him.

"_Shut up Jack_!" Campbell yelled, and punched Jack in the stomach, causing him to fall to the floor. "_I lost my wife because of you! BECAUSE OF YOU!_" He started to kick Jack, and then stamped down hard on his neck. Despite this, Jack retained consciousness. "When I got out, they wouldn't let me see my kids, and I guess I always knew that would happen. Having a disgraced government agent as a father, who had tried to commit suicide and couldn't get a job to save his life, at least not one I could put on a tax form."

"So you've been working as a mercenary since you got out?" Jack surmised breathlessly. He tried to get back on his feet, but Campbell kicked him back down again.

"How long do you think I've been out, Jack?" Campbell asked. "I've had enough time to plan one operation - this one."

"You couldn't possibly have the money to hire enough people for this," Jack realised, as he remembered that there had been at least five men that had attacked them at the station. "Who's financing this?"

Campbell smiled. "Leave it to you to work out something like that," he smirked. "But my backers wish to remain anonymous."

"Backers?" Jack repeated. "So you're being funded by an organisation."

Campbell's smiled flickered. Jack could tell he had not meant to let that slip. Jack tried to think of any organisation or group that could have had a personal grudge against him. There were too many to count.

* * *

"Chloe, you got anything on the traffic cameras yet?" Adrian Rouse asked. He had walked over to her area to be able to see what she was doing first hand.

At first, Chloe did not reply. She was busily tapping her keyboard and not taking her eyes off her monitor for a second. The screen was split into many sections, each of which had a different view of a road.

"Chloe!" Adrian snapped.

"Wait one second!" Chloe barked back, still keeping her gaze fixedly on her workstation. Adrian took a closer look at what she was doing, and saw that she was advancing frame by frame on a picture of a dark car that did indeed have one taillight out.

"Got it," she said with a smile as she froze on one particular frame. She zoomed in and enhanced the picture enough to be able to read the licence plate.

"Good work," Adrian told her, trying to give her a compliment.

"I did find another car with only one working taillight," she said, as if she had not heard his praise. "But there was a woman driving it, and it didn't look big enough to carry someone in the back. This one on the other hand…" she changed the zoom to focus on the interior of the car. "Two large men in the front, and look at that thing behind them, it could be your agent if he was tied up."

"Can you follow this car?" Adrian asked her. "We need to know where they took him."

"I can try," Chloe replied, with a slightly doubtful tone in her voice. "It depends where they're going really. CalTrans can hopefully take us as far as the freeways, and after that I might be able to use satellite."

"Okay, do it then," Adrian said impatiently.

"Fine, but would you at least tell me what's going on? Which agent is it that's been captured?" Chloe retorted.

Adrian cleared his throat. "Jack Bauer," he said stiffly.

"Jack?" Chloe repeated, disbelieving. She had not had very much personal contact with Jack in the short time she had been working at CTU, but his reputation was unavoidable around the office. He was the legend. He was apparently the most capable agent there, past or present.

"I'll inform Jennings of what you found," Adrian said, bringing Chloe's attention back to the matter at hand. "And I'll put out an APB for the car. Follow the car, and tell me when it reaches its final destination."

Chloe nodded, and Adrian walked up to Jennings's office. He was surprised to see when he got there that his boss was drumming his fingers on his desk nervously and was sweating profusely.

"Are you all right?" he asked slightly unsurely.

Jennings seemed to have been jerked out of whatever thoughts he had been having at Adrian's arrival.

"I'm fine," he answered dismissively. "It's just… well this isn't an easy situation to say the least."

"Well I think it might've got a little bit more manageable," Adrian told him. "Chloe thinks she's found the car they took Jack in. She's using CalTrans and satellite to find out where it's going."

"That's good news," he mumbled. He reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a tissue, which he used to wipe the sweat off his face.

"Yes, well, I'll just go and put out an ABP for the car," Adrian said cautiously, backing out of the room.

"Adrian," Jennings called when he had almost gone. "Sorry about this, I'm just under a lot of pressure."

"No problem, sir," Adrian said as he left.

But as Adrian made his way back to his own workstation, he thought there was a problem. Something was very wrong with the Head of CTU.

* * *

Wayne and Prescott looked over the intelligence report Wayne had brought in with him. It was all very boring, and did not tell Prescott anything he did not already know.

"Is this all you came to see me about?" Prescott asked.

"Well… not exactly," Wayne admitted. He obviously wanted to bring the conversation to the main topic discreetly, and in his own time, and did not like the fact Prescott had done it first.

"What is it then?" Prescott demanded impatiently.

"I want to know what you think of my brother," Wayne said plainly.

"What I think of him? I think he's a good man and a good leader to this country."

"Stop BS'ing me, Jim," Wayne retorted. "Tell me what you think of his condition."

Prescott faltered for a moment. "Without any significant evidence of his being incapable of doing his duties, I don't see any cause for concern. I'm not going to make the same mistake again. I think he's fine."

Wayne nodded slightly. "Well I don't."

* * *

Karsen's cell phone started to ring.

"A hoy hoy," he answered lightly.

One of the men who had kidnapped Jack was on the other end. "We've taken Bauer to the factory. He's with Campbell now."

"Good," Karsen said. "Hopefully now that baby's got his bottle he'll shut up for a little while. Thank you."

After he hung up, he turned back to his laptop. An icon started flashing in his taskbar, telling him that he had an incoming transmission. He clicked the icon to bring it up. A video conference started up on his screen. The man on Karsen's display was in his mid-forties, with full, black hair and cold, grey eyes.

A flicker of fear crossed Karsen's face. "Mr. Burton," he said. "How can I help you, sir?"

"I wanted to give you some news, Dean," Burton said in a business-like voice. "Nick Lewis was killed this afternoon."

"That's a shame, sir," Karsen responded without emotion. After a thoughtful pause he added, "Are we to assume this was the work of Harry Ward's group?"

"Dean, who else would it be?"

Karsen nodded. "When did this happen?"

"I spoke to him two hours ago, telling him to come into work, so sometime since then," Burton replied.

"Sir…" Karsen started delicately. "What are you planning in the way of retaliation?"

"Ward has killed two of my men in as many weeks," Burton said firmly. "I'm through biding my time. My vengeance will come swiftly. I'll need you, Dean. I want you to lead the operation."

Karsen raised one hand defensively. "I appreciate that, sir, but could I request that you give this assignment to someone else? I have a personal matter today that I need to take care of."

"A personal matter?" Burton repeated. "I think you need to remember who you work for. We are at war with Ward's team, I need all of my people on board."

"I understand that, sir, and I wouldn't usually ask. But, you see… it's my sister. She's in a lot of trouble, she owes people money and I'm trying to bail her out."

"Yes, yes, all right," Burton snapped impatiently. "But I want you here tomorrow. You'll need to be there to manage the fallout we can expect from Ward after today."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

"I'll contact you tomorrow," Burton said before he terminated the connection, and Karsen was left staring at his blank desktop screen again.

Karsen sat back in his chair, covered his face with the palms of his hands, then began massaging his temples. He knew from the beginning that this was going to be a trying day.

* * *

Jack looked up at Campbell from the floor, listening to the man describe how terrible his life had become since Jack arrested him, occasionally breaking from his story to kick Jack on the ground whenever he felt the pain from the previous kick was starting to wear off.

"What about George Mason, Jack?" Campbell asked.

"What about him?" Jack muttered.

"You know what. He took down that drug lord right around the same time I took that bribe. A pretty big chunk of his money seemed to just disappear. You knew where it went and I knew where it went, but you didn't have Mason arrested, did you?"

"George was a hero," Jack whispered, more to himself than to Campbell.

"Oh please, he was a weasel," Campbell retorted.

"Whatever you think of him, that drug lord still went down," Jack said, having been beaten so severely by now that talking was beginning to cause him more pain. "Because of you, four known assassinations could have gone free, and would have if I didn't catch you."

"And what about Adam Grant?" Campbell went on. "Just because he was leading the case as well, you assumed he was taking bribes too."

"You say he wasn't?" Jack asked, momentarily caught off guard.

"Well if he was, it was without either of the rest of us knowing, and I doubt those assassinations would have made two separate deals. They bribed two of us. The majority of the lead agents, that's all they needed."

"I was very careful with my investigation," Jack said in short breaths. "I didn't want to believe any of you had done it. I wouldn't have put Grant forwards if I didn't have evidence."

"Well your evidence was wrong."

Jack started to whisper something else, but it was too quiet for Campbell to hear. He let out a soft groan of pain.

"What's that, Jack?" Campbell said, moving closer to Jack and bending over him. Once he was close enough, Jack swung out his bound legs and knocked Campbell to the floor. Though his wrists were also restrained, Jack had enough slack to throw himself on Campbell and elbow him in the face. Campbell was thin, much thinner than Jack remembered him, so it was easy to pin him down. But Campbell brought up his knee to Jack's crotch, and in the time it took for Jack to compose himself again, Campbell scrambled to his feet and reached over to his desk, pulling out a gun and drawing it on Jack.

"Bad boy, Jack," Campbell taunted. "I wanted to take my time killing you, but I'll shoot you if I have to." His mouth had become bloody, and he spat some of it out on Jack's face.

Jack, unable to wipe it away, said nothing.

* * *

Adrian started hammering the intercom button.

"What?" Chloe snapped.

"Do I even need to ask? Have you found where they took Jack yet?" Adrian asked.

"Do I even need to say, no?" Chloe bitched back. "Because if I had I would have told you. Frankly I would get it done a lot faster without your constant interruptions."

"Constant? This is the second time I've asked you. You've had almost 45 minutes," Adrian commented.

"In case you haven't noticed, Los Angeles is a pretty big place - quite a few cars. It's not that easy to find a particular one."

"Okay, okay," Adrian said hastily, starting to regret ever starting a conversation with her. "Just call me when you find it."

"Of course I was going to, you didn't need to tell me," Chloe barked before giving a fed-up grunt and disconnecting.

* * *

Wayne went back to Palmer's office. His brother looked up at him with a smile when he walked in.

"Where did you go?" Palmer asked.

"Had to look over a report from the Treasury," Wayne said dismissively.

Palmer nodded, and Wayne could not tell if he knew he was lying.

"I wanted to apologise to you," Palmer said abruptly. "I know you just have my best interests at heart."

"Of course I do David, yours and this country's."

"If truth be told, I know I'm still not operating at one hundred percent. I like to tell everybody that I can take care of this country as well as I ever could, but in fact I find myself relying on you and the rest of my staff more than I've ever needed to in the past."

"That's what we're here for," Wayne told him kindly. "Managing the United States was never meant to be a one-man job. But I know I could never do what you do."

Palmer smiled. "You give me too much credit."

The President pulled his brother into a tight hug. Wayne looked away, ashamed that he was right.

* * *

Simon Burton had just finished outlining his plan to one of his men that he brought in to replace Karsen.

"I'm not sure about this, sir," the man said cautiously. "It seems to me that this isn't the most efficient way to hit back at Ward's group."

Burton gave a stern look to his subordinate across his office desk. "It may not be the most _efficient_ way, but it will definitely be the best way to send a strong message of deterrence to Ward."

"Yes, sir. That is true. But any possible way this can play out, many more innocent people will die than mercenaries working for Ward."

"That is unfortunate," Burton admitted. "But this is what I want you to do. You have one hour."

* * *

It was with mixed feelings of relief and dread that Adrian answered the call from Chloe's workstation.

"Rouse," he answered.

"Well, I've found where they took Jack," Chloe stated, as though she thought Adrian had wasted time by saying his own name. "He's in a factory in North Hollywood, I've sent the exact address to Jennings. He's co-ordinating an assault team."

"Thanks, Chloe," he said grudgingly before hanging up and calling the Director.

"CTU, Jennings," he answered.

"O'Brian just told me she found Jack," Adrian said. "Do you want me to keep in contact with the team that goes in?"

"No, I'll do that," Jennings replied.

"If you're sure, sir," Adrian told him. "I just thought you might want me --"

"Jack is a priority right now," Jennings interrupted. "I want to handle his recovery personally."

* * *

Karsen cast a nervous look at his front door to make sure the remaining henchman had not come back yet from disposing of the other henchman's body. He opened a file on his computer, typed in a password, and waited a few seconds for the file to decrypt. Once it was finished, he scrolled through the entries until the found the one he was looking for. He copied down the phone number from the record into his cell phone and called the person.

"Yes?" a deep voice said.

"Mr. Ward, it's Dean Karsen."

"What do you want?" Ward asked.

"I wanted to warn you, Burton just found out that your people killed Lewis," Karsen told him. "He's planning to strike back against you, today."

"I see," said Ward. "Thank you. Will this affect our own plans?"

"I don't know," Karsen replied. "It's possible. In my opinion, you should think about moving forwards as quickly as you can."

"I'll keep that in mind," Ward said in an unperceivable tone, and then hung up.

Karsen cast one more look at the door, then deleted the call record from his phone.

* * *

Campbell hit Jack again, so hard that Jack was sure he had broken something. The two of them had not spoken for several minutes. A shrill ringing broke through the silence. Campbell calmly walked over to the desk and picked up his phone.

"What is it?" he asked promptly.

"CTU has found your position," the caller informed him.

"Oh really," Campbell said, eyeing Jack on the floor, careful not to say anything that could tip off Jack as to what he was talking about, or who he was talking to.

"I prepared you for this. You did get the package, didn't you?"

"I did, thank you," Campbell replied.

"Good. Now I want to see my family."

Campbell sighed. "I will tell my men to activate the feed in a few minutes. Call me when you have anything else to tell me."

"I will," CTU Director Gary Jennings said as he put his phone down. He took out his PDA and watched the screen expectantly. A single tear rolled down his cheek.

9:00pm


	4. 9:00pm to 10:00pm

9:00pm to 10:00pm

Burton picked up the phone in his empty office. He had sent his man away to exact revenge on Harry Ward only fifteen minutes ago. In his opinion, he could not afford to let any more of his men die, not at a time like this.

"Hello?" a man answered.

"Albert, it's Simon Burton. A man will be contacting you shortly; his name is Tyler Connick. He will request a large quantity of explosives from you. I want to make sure that you have it all ready by the time he meets with you."

"I understand, sir," Albert replied.

"I will emphasise that this man is doing a job of the highest importance, on my direct order. Give him the explosives and let him get straight to work, do not hold him up even for a second, or you will have me to answer to."

"Of course I won't, sir," Albert assured him.

"Good," Burton said. "Once I have confirmation from Connick that you have given him the explosives, I will call you again and transfer the money into your account."

Burton hung up. He knew that after Connick carried out his task, he would need to deal with what Ward would do back. Burton knew he was escalating the conflict, this was more than just killing a mercenary working for Ward. He could only hope that Ward would not move it up another step further. In the end, the most important thing was that his group emerge the stronger of the two. After all, destroying Ward was not the main goal, he was simply a distraction that needed to be dealt with. The real job was still to come.

* * *

"Come on, come on," Gary Jennings murmured as he nervously tapped his fingers on his desk. He had called the man that was holding Jack almost five minutes ago and nothing had happened yet. 

Suddenly, a message came up on his PDA with a quiet beep. Jennings looked at it hopefully:

'_SEND ETA ON RECOVERY MISSION, SIZE OF TAC TEAM, AND NAME OF LEAD AGENT_.'

Jennings ran a hand across his head to wipe away his perspiration. He briefly considered lying to this man by telling him that the team was smaller than it really was, or it would not be arriving for a longer time than was true. Either way he would be caught off guard when the team got there, and hopefully he would be caught. But this man had kidnapped his family, and Jennings could not be sure that once he was arrested he would tell CTU where they were.

Hating himself for what he was doing, he typed a response to the man, telling him that a team of eight men was expected to arrive where he was in approximately thirty minutes, lead by an Agent Wicks. After he sent it, he continued to watch the screen.

Finally, a video feed opened. He saw his family's faces. They had all been tied up and gagged, just like the last time he had seen them. His younger son was crying; he was only eight years old. His other son seemed to be trying to look unafraid, but Jennings could see the fear in his eyes, and his wife had her head bowed and looked completely unresponsive. He was sure they did now know he was watching him.

He remembered when the kidnapper had first contacted him, three days ago. He was told that the reason they had been taken would become apparent soon. The next day he was told to place an item in a package and drop it off at a bus station. He had done that without question, even though he knew perfectly well what the man was planning to do with it. The day after that he had received another communication, this time telling him something he would need to do in the future, which he had now done. Lastly was today, when he had been the one to contact the man, simply because he could not risk anything happening to his family.

Looking at their faces now, he knew nothing had changed. He still could not risk anything happening to them, no matter what. Even if it meant Jack Bauer had to die.

* * *

The CTU field agent that had been put in charge of the mission, Agent Wicks, drove his jeep towards the location he had been given. His cell phone began ringing. 

"Yeah," he said into it.

"It's Rouse," Adrian told him. "I wanted to confirm your status."

"I was told to report only to Director Jennings," Wicks said.

"Fine," Adrian snapped. "But I've been looking into the history of the factory where Jack is. It's been abandoned for six months, since then it's been broken into twice. I did an infrared sweep, and it looks like there are seven bodies inside. So assuming Jack's still alive, that means you've got six hostiles."

"All right, thank you." Wicks hung up.

Adrian cast a look up at Jennings's office. He wondered why he was being so possessive about the handling of this mission. Jennings was quite a by-the-book man, but Adrian hoped that it would not mess up this operation.

* * *

Campbell grinned as he reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a switchblade. He approached Jack, who was still lying on the dusty floor. He flicked the switch on the handle menacingly, and the knife appeared. 

He placed the tip of the blade on Jack's cheek "CTU's on their way, Jack," he said. "Of course that means they'll have satellites watching this place, and will be able to follow me if I try to leave. I remember all the protocols."

"What do you want me to do about it?" Jack asked weakly.

"Oh nothing," Campbell replied. "But they'll be here in about twenty minutes. That means I've only got that long to make you suffer."

"How do you know they're coming?"

Campbell chuckled. "I worked at CTU for four years. I know what they do, I know exactly how they would handle this sort of situation. I miss being a field agent, you know. Even before you arrested me, when I was forced to transfer out of Field Ops, it just wasn't the same after that. I didn't have that same enthusiasm for the job. Maybe that's why I took that bribe."

"I don't care about your reasons, Seth," Jack said flatly. "What you did was still wrong, and what I did was right."

Smiling, Campbell pressed the knife further into Jack's face until it started to draw blood. He then moved it slowly across, cutting a thin, deep gash in Jack's cheek.

"How did I know you'd say that?"

* * *

Still tapping at his keyboard, Karsen swung around in surprise when he heard the door open. He was relieved to see that it was only his surviving henchman, back from disposing of his co-worker's body. 

"Did it go all right?" Karsen asked the man.

"With all due respect, sir, I know how to get rid of a body at night," he retorted.

Karsen smirked at his attitude. "As long as you didn't run into any problems."

"Sir, does Mr. Burton know that you killed one of his men?" the henchman asked nervously.

"No, he doesn't yet," Karsen told him. "But he was too much of a low-level for Burton to care very much anyway. It's hardly worth the bother."

"Well if you ask me, you should tell him before he finds out on his own."

"Thank you," Karsen barked. "Because you know it's always my policy to ask as many of my lackeys as possible for their opinions before making any major decision. I find it helps me more to identify with the common man."

"I'm sorry, sir," the man said meekly. "It's not my place."

"Too right it isn't," Karsen agreed. Not wanting to keep perusing through the files on his laptop, he slammed the top of it down. He would have to kill the other man too eventually, to cover up what he had been doing today. His survival depended on it.

* * *

A black van drove up to a warehouse. Burton's man, Tyler Connick, got out and walked up to the warehouse door, and knocked three times on the door. After a small delay, a man opened the door a crack. He was in his sixties, quite short and plump, with grey hair and a thick beard. 

"Albert?" Connick asked the short man.

"Yeah, you Connick?" he questioned back.

Connick nodded, and Albert opened the door the rest of the way.

"Come in," he said quietly, jerking his head inside the warehouse. Connick followed him in.

When he walked in, Connick saw half a dozen men assembled around the floor, each loading or unloading various items into different packaging. Albert wheeled forwards a small trolley.

"Six blocks of C-4 explosives, plus detonators," Albert commented, indicating the contents of the trolley.

"Excellent," Connick appraised, picking up one of the blocks and inspecting it. "You were quick getting it together, I only called you for it five minutes ago."

"Mr. Burton contacted me personally before that," Albert informed him. "He wanted to make sure your assignment progressed as fast as possible."

"Well, thank you," Connick said, bowing his head with respect.

"It's nothing," Albert said, holding out a hand modestly. "Good luck."

Connick took the trolley outside and loaded the explosives into the back of his van. He got into the front seat and drove away. He knew where he needed to go next.

* * *

Jack had faith in CTU. He had worked alongside a lot of the men for years, and trained more than a few of them himself. He knew that they were more than a match for Seth Campbell, especially since Campbell was so convinced he knew exactly how CTU would go about their operation when he had been inactive for five years. They had revised their assault profiles considerably in that time, and hopefully they would be able to outmanoeuvre Campbell successfully. 

"No, no, Jack. This won't do at all," Campbell muttered, looking down at the bloody mess that was Jack on the floor. "When CTU gets here we can't have you looking like this."

He roughly picked Jack up by the back of his shirt and with immense effort, hoisted him into a sitting position. He paused for a second, then went over to his desk and pulled out a gun, which he cocked and pointed at Jack.

"No funny business this time," he said seriously.

He took out a long length of rope and, with one hand, tied it around Jack's already bound wrists. He then threw it up and wrapped it around some railings on the low ceiling. When he pulled on the rope, Jack was lifted onto his feet. Campbell stopped pulling the rope before Jack was completely standing up, so he was left slightly slouched.

Campbell then reached into his back pocket and got a wad of black cloth, which he stuffed into Jack's mouth and sealed in place with duct tape. Apparently not satisfied with this, Campbell started to wrap the tape around Jack's head many times, until he had used most of the roll.

"There, that's better," Campbell commented with a smile. "Now that we've taken care of you, it's my turn to get ready."

He reached under the desk and retrieved a large package wrapped up in plain, brown paper. Taking this with him, he walked out of the room. Jack stood alone in the room for several minutes, unable to move or talk, barely able to breathe. The door opened again, and Jack was shocked at what he saw.

Campbell was standing in the doorway, fully dressed in a standard CTU SWAT suit. Not the type of gear that CTU issued whilst Campbell was an agent, but the uniform that the current SWAT team wore. Jack had no idea where he could have acquired one of those. Campbell took off his helmet and smirked again.

"How do I look?"

* * *

Meanwhile, Agent Wicks and his seven other men arrived one block away from the factory. He called Director Jennings. 

"Sir, my men and I are ready to raid the factory," he informed him.

"That's good news," Jennings said. After he had hung up, Jennings stared at the walls, wondering if there was any way this could possibly go well for him. If this man got away, hopefully his family would be returned safely, but if he was caught, his family would be killed and he would probably be arrested for treason.

Wicks prepared his team and handed out their weapons. They all approached the factory, keeping a careful eye on the windows to make sure nobody knew they were coming.

"Ready guys?" he said to them. "Remember, our priority is to recover Agent Bauer alive. We have an estimated six hostiles inside and we don't know how well they are armed. Let's go."

Two agents placed charges on the door and blew it open. Instantly, men on the other side started to fire at them. They had automatic weapons and were hard to locate on the dim factory floor. The team fired at them; one of the men fell down dead but the others retreated further back and up some stairs, while one gave cover fire.

"Split up!" Wicks called out to his men. "Flank them. You three, take the steps on the left, the rest go up the main stairs."

The team divided and went in different directions. Wicks took four others the way the hostiles had gone. Once they were on the second floor, they saw one of the men throw something their way. It landed on the floor just in front of them, and the men threw two others. The objects started to give off a gas that quickly filled the air.

"Tear gas grenades!" Wicks yelled. "Take cover and masks on!"

All of the agents ducked down and pulled out their gas masks and put them on. But in the time it took them to do it, a hostile had come back down the stairs and killed one of the agents. Wicks quickly fired at the man in the head.

They checked the rest of the floor for anybody else but found no one. The team went up the next flight of stairs, but it was also empty. The air was clear enough now for Agent Wicks to take off his gas mask, and the other agents followed suit. They went up to the fourth floor, and the men fired at them whilst taking cover behind some crates. The agents took cover of their own behind a large piece of machinery and started to return fire. An agent was hit, but his vest stopped the bullet and he was merely knocked off of his feet. He got back up again and resumed shooting.

The three agents that had been sent up the side stairs emerged on the left, and from their angle had a clear shot at the men. After they killed the first one, the two remaining men quickly ran up the next stairs. The team pursued them and were able to kill another one on the stairs, and his body fell back down them.

The last hostile standing did not run up more stairs, but ran down to the other end of the floor. The agents went after him.

"Hartnell," Wicks said to one of his team. "Keep going up the main stairs, Bauer might be up there."

"Yes, sir," Agent Hartnell replied.

He climbed up to the higher floors, and met another agent there.

"What are you doing here?" Hartnell asked the man.

"Agent Wicks sent me up some side steps to back you up," the man answered. "I haven't found anyone else up here yet."

"All right," Hartnell said. "Let's go up to the top."

The other agent nodded. Hartnell took the lead as he reached the top floor, but when he looked back, the other agent was gone. He opened a door, and saw Jack Bauer strung up from the ceiling, looking badly beaten.

"I've found Bauer," he said into his radio. "He's in an office on the top floor. Get medical."

"Copy that," Agent Wicks responded. "The last sighted hostile's down, but if the infrared scan was right there's another in here somewhere."

Wicks took out his phone and called CTU.

"CTU, Jennings."

"It's Wicks, we've recovered Bauer. He's injured, but we don't know how badly yet. I need Rouse to do another infrared scan to check for any remaining hostiles. I have seven remaining men inside, so including Bauer there should be eight."

"Okay, good work," Jennings said nervously.

He pressed his intercom button.

"Rouse," Adrian answered.

"It's Jennings, they've got Jack safely," Jennings told him.

"Oh thank God," Adrian said with a long exhale of relief.

"Yes, but Wicks wants you to do a scan of the building to check for any remaining bodies."

"Got it." Adrian eagerly turned to his computer and initiated the scan. It took a little while to complete. "Well it's hard to distinguish between live bodies and one that have been recently killed. The best I can do to guess is that the live ones are moving around and the dead are slightly less active. So you've got eight alive and six dead."

"Thanks," Jennings said before he disconnected. He called Agent Wicks back. "Adrian says you've got eight moving bodies in there and six presumably dead."

"Well I took eight men, and one went down," Wicks counted thoughtfully. "We took down five hostiles, so everyone's accounted for. Someone must have left after the first scan was taken but before we got there."

"Yeah," Jennings agreed. "Get Jack back here a.s.a.p."

"Will do," Wicks said as he hung up.

Wicks proceeded up the stairs to check on Jack. By the time he got there, he had been cut down and unrestrained, and the medic and not yet arrived. There was a large amount of tape over his mouth, and one of the other agents already in the room was trying to carefully remove it without hurting Jack.

Eventually, they managed to peel off all of the tape, and pull out the cloth inside his mouth. Jack took a few gasps of breath, then spat out some blood that had been in his mouth.

"Campbell," he said almost straight away, although it was clearly an effort for him to talk. "Seth Campbell. Escaped… SWAT… Don't let him… get away."

* * *

Seth Campbell exited the factory door. He ran to the one of the CTU vehicles parked outside, and started thinking of a way to get into it, when an agent followed him out. 

"What are you doing here?" the agent asked him, just like the other one had. This agent had removed his helmet, and he could see through the darkness that his face looked sweaty from running down all the stairs.

"Agent Wicks sent me," Campbell replied again. "He wanted me to get more medical supplies from the car."

The agent lifted his gun immediately. "I am Wicks," he said stiffly.

Campbell pulled his gun as well, and the two fired together. Wicks's bullet rebounded off the Kevlar vest, but Campbell's bullet hit Wicks in the head, and he went down. Campbell searched Wicks's body for keys to the car. When he found them, he opened the car door, started the engine, and drove away.

* * *

The medic gently helped Jack into a chair and began checking him over. The agents that were left, waiting for Wicks to radio in with news on the status of Jack's kidnapper, stood around watching. Jack sat back, breathing heavily and trying to regain his strength. 

"SWAT," he muttered again, though none of the agents knew what he meant by this. Slowly, he seemed to be recovering, and was able to put words together easier.

"He was wearing SWAT gear," Jack mumbled. "Campbell was dressed like the rest of you. Tell Wicks."

Agent Hartnell took out his radio at once. "Wicks! Wicks, do you copy?" There was no answer.

"You can't let Campbell get away," Jack repeated. "He was being funded by a group. They must have wanted something from him. We need to find out what."

Some of the agents rushed out to the room to check on Wicks. The medic continued to inspect Jack.

"Nothing appears to be broken," he said. "You have some quite severe bruises though. I would recommend you get a few days' rest at home. I want you to go to the CTU clinic to get a proper check out before you're debriefed though."

Jack brushed aside what the man was saying, and tried to get to his feet. He gingerly got up, let out a short cry of pain, and had to sit back down.

* * *

As he sat behind his desk with his head in his hands, Jennings's phone started ringing. 

"What? Err, CTU Jennings," he said awkwardly.

"Keep it together, Gary," Jennings heard the familiar voice of the man who was holding his family. "We don't want you losing it, for both of our sakes."

"You son of a bitch," Jennings barked. "I helped you get away, now tell me where they are!"

"Not just yet," Campbell said. "Firstly, I want to make sure I get away safely. I've disabled the tracker on my vehicle, but I'm sure CTU had satellites covering where I was, which means they would have picked up me leaving. I want you to reposition that satellite, by fifty miles in any direction."

"Okay, fine," Jennings agreed.

"Then the only matter we have to deal with is Bauer," Campbell went on.

"What about him?" asked Jennings. "I don't have the resources to give him to you myself."

"Oh I know, don't worry about that," Campbell assured him. "But I don't want him on my tail now. I'll have to live with the fact that Jack Bauer is still out there in the world, I just don't want him anywhere near me. So when he gets back to CTU, make sure he's debriefed quickly, and then force him to take a short leave of absence. A few weeks, for health reasons, trauma, that sort of thing. Given the state I left him in, that shouldn't be too hard to argue."

"I'll do what I can," Jennings told him.

"Make sure it gets done, or your family dies."

Campbell hung up. Jennings sighed, there was no way Jack would accept being taken off the case, and he did not like the fact that he was about to go up against Jack Bauer.

* * *

Jack reached the bottom floor of the factory, and the agents that had stayed behind accompanied him. The pain in his legs was beginning to lessen, judging by the fact that he had managed to walk down several storeys of a building without a great deal of help. 

They saw Wicks's dead body when they went outside. Jack breathed in the cool night air, feeling as though he hadn't experienced fresh air in a long time. It somehow seemed to give him strength as he felt it fill his lungs.

"One of the CTU cars is missing," an agent informed them.

"Have you tried tracking it using the transponder?" Jack asked.

"Yes, it was disabled," the agent replied.

"Agent Bauer, we have orders to take you back to CTU," another agent added. "You can ride in the car we have left, four of us will wait until they can send us another."

"Fine," Jack said. He climbed into the back seat of the car, and they started to move.

* * *

The market square was surprisingly crowded for such a late hour. Tyler Connick watched the late night shoppers rushing about the stores. His van was parked in an alleyway adjacent to the square, hidden by shadows. He carefully watched the bar at the other end of the street, taking note of anybody new entering of exiting the building. 

He took out his phone, and dialled Burton's number.

"Yes?" Burton answered.

"Sir, it's Connick."

"Ah, Tyler," Burton said, his voice picking up slightly. "Are you in position?"

"Yes, sir, I am," Connick replied. "Do you want me to strike now?"

"Have you seen any of Ward's men go into the building?" Burton asked.

"I haven't seen any I recognise, sir."

Burton sighed. "Well then it's a good thing I secured additional surveillance to monitor the place before you got there." Connick was simply not up to the same level as someone like Karsen, thought Burton. He wished Karsen had been available to handle this action. "Three men that we have confirmed work for Ward have been seen entering and not seen leaving. An extra five are still inside that are known to be informal associates of his."

"What about the others, sir?" Connick asked with substantial hesitation. "There are at least thirty people inside the bar. Some of them are women, most of these people have never done anything to hurt you, sir."

"I told you before, that is unfortunate," Burton said patiently. "But this place is a front for Ward's business. The people inside are merely collateral damage. You have my orders, Tyler. You either carry them out or you disobey. It's your choice."

Burton hung up abruptly. Connick surveyed the bar one more time. He knew what was at stake, he knew the price of defying Burton, and he knew that was not an option. Fingers shaking, he reached for the detonator that he had put down on his dashboard. He had to look away as he pressed the button.

There was a tremendous explosion and a deafening bang across the entire area. Pieces of the bar were hurtled into the air and came down outside, where dozens of members of the public were standing completely still, transfixed at what was happening. Several dead bodies were littering the streets, and others were craning over seriously injured people, trying to do what they could.

Connick silently took in the horrific scene in front of him, and reached for his car keys to restart the engine and prepare to leave. A man carrying a large grocery bag ran up to his van frantically and started banging on the window in a panic.

Not quite knowing what to do, Connick lowered his window to hear what the man had to say. The features of the man's face immediately shifted, so that he did not look the least bit worried anymore.

"I have a reply from Ward," he said calmly as he reached into the grocery bag and pulled out a gun. He shot Connick through the head, and his blood splattered the windscreen.

10:00pm


End file.
